Two foreigners arrive home to find their living room is a tornado of flying termites. The smart one retreats to his computer room while his friend runs to buy an electric bug zapper in the shape of a tennis racket. He forgets to buy batteries and hides in his room. After ten minutes, the nervous men peer into the living room to find the flying bugs have vanished. "Perhaps they are migrating south," suggests one. The other stares in horror at the floor. "My god," he says, "it's full of wings!" The termites have shed their wings and are crawling around the floor like maggots. One of the men begins stamping on the villains; the other turns pale and sweats cold sweat. "They're... they're evolving," he mutters.
The more proactive of the two heads to the kitchen. He makes a noise that sounds like a distended hippo on heat. "UUueehhheehHHhnnnn," he gags. "Look!" The other man reluctantly approaches the kitchen. The floor, doors and surfaces are crawling with termite maggots. Five or six cockroaches are running round eating them. The foreigners have never seen cockroaches eat before, and it is not something they will forget. "We got to kill the termites," says one. "What about the cockroaches?" whines the other. "The enemy of our enemy is our friend," comes the reply. "They're on our side this time." He begins sweeping the termites into a central mound. The mound, completed, is a heaving mass of pale disgust.
"Here's my plan," he says. "You take the brush and keep them here in the Pile," he says as he brushes some escapees back, "while I go put my boot on and squash them all." "Uh! No! Just put them in a bucket and drown them," replies the logical coward.
One week later all signs of the termites are gone. Next year they will return, and the landlord will tell the new tenant it is his fault for not paying the gas bill on time.